


The Cliffs of Delphi: First Stop

by GreyLiliy



Series: The Cliffs Of Delphi [14]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Fluff, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:13:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1383721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarn has spent the last month in a sour mood with Pharma gone on a medical conference. Taking his irritability on his family, the entire Tarn Manor has been a powder keg of frustration. But he only has to wait one more week and then Pharma will be home in his asylum. Tarn recieves a pleasant surprise, contradicting his expectations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cliffs of Delphi: First Stop

**Author's Note:**

> RP’d this like this week, and rothinsel's Tarn was so cute I can't. Had to write it, or at least half of it. I cut out a long fight scene between Pharma and Kaon to get to the fluff. *cough*

Tarn slumped in his chair, the roast from dinner settling heavy in his stomach like a lead weight. His staff prepared dinner as well as always, but it still held the satisfaction of dust and paper congealed into a heavy lump. Vos slipped in to refill his whisky glass, and set the bottle down on the side table. He returned to his post by the door, taking turns glaring at Low Gear reading in the corner, and High Gear snuggled next to Kaon on the couch with a book of his own.

Tarn sipped his drink. After dinner sittings were more often now that Tarn had free time, but there was always some drama going on. Tarn wondered what it was this time, even as he realized that he really did need to address Vos’ issues with the twins at some point. It was starting to affect work.

"Tarn," Kaon said, licking his lips. He sat up on his knees, and used High Gear as a brace as he leaned over the back of the couch. "You’re not going to drink all night are you? That’s what you always do after dinner. Let’s do something. Want to teach me another piano song?"

"You’ve hardly had a chance to let the food settle," Tarn said, not in the mood to play or even listen. He was rather enjoying the silence. "Sit back down. Why don’t you read something like the other two."

"I don’t want to," Kaon pouted.

"Of course you don’t," a smug voice said from the doorway. Tarn turned and nearly dropped his drink. Pharma dropped a heavy suitcase next to the sitting chair near the piano, and snorted at Kaon with his hands on his hips. "You always did prefer ‘father’ to read your books for you, hmm?"

"Pharma?" Kaon said, scrunching his nose. He scrunched his nose, and hissed, "I thought I smelled something awful. You should lay off the disinfectant. You’re starting to smell like a morgue."

"Ha, cute," Pharma said. He sat down in the chair, thumping heavily enough that the wood creaked, and crossed his legs. "Haven’t heard that one before. You’re slipping, kid."

"Pharma," Tarn said, glancing at the doorway and back to the doctor sitting in his chair like he hadn’t been gone for a month. "I thought you were in Germany?"

The good doctor rolled his shoulder and took the glass of whisky Vos handed him. He sipped it with a shrug. Pharma said, “The final speaker caught a rather nasty flu and they canceled the last week of events. So I hopped on a train, caught the boat, and caught a second train and well—here I am.”

Tarn’s gaze remained steady on the suitcase. He licked the corner of his mouth, his tongue dry. “Did you come here straight from the train station?”

"Yes. It was on the way home, so I figured I could stay the night in the guest room and go home in the morning. Why?" Pharma asked. The doctor looked over at Tarn, sipping his drink with not a care in the world. His red hair was slick, and full of grease. Pharma’s clothes were ruffled from sleeping on a train, Tarn assumed, and his suit had a tiny stain in the top corner of his collar. He looked comfortable and at ease. "I’m not intruding, am I?"

Tarn put his drink on the side table and drew to Pharma like a moth to a flame. With an even stride, he crossed the carpet and he—

"Tarn? What are you doing?" Kaon asked, huffing. His head turned, darting around to follow Tarn’s footsteps. "You’re not leaving already are you?"

"Yes," Tarn said, without room for argument. He loosened his tie to open his throat, as his pulse and breath rose with every second. "It’s late, and I’m sure the doctor’s ready for sleep as well."

"I can stay up a bit—" Pharma’s words were cut off as Tarn lifted him by the arm, and pushed on his back toward the door. Pharma yelped, and started to walk on his own power out the doorway. "Fine! I’m going, I’m going!"

Kaon bit the edge of his lip and growled inside. He sat back down—square in the middle of High Gear’s lap, and dug his face into the older boy’s neck. Tarn could hear him mumble, “Couldn’t even wait ten bloody minutes before shagging him. Unbelievable.”

Tarn ignored the boy and continued pushing Pharma out of the door.

The doctor slumped his shoulders as they walked down the hallway. Pouting as he crossed his arms, and the look in his eyes were almost as loud as Kaon’s mutterings.

Tarn opened a door on the side, uncaring of which room it was and dragged Pharma into it. He flipped the light on, relieved that it was in fact a guestroom, though not Pharma’s usual. It had a faint scene of dust, and the floral print on the bed was faded.

"Kaon’s right, you know," Pharma said, poking Tarn in the chest. The freckles on his face morphed as he scowled, his earlier ease making way for irritation and Pharma’s normal mask of anger. "You really couldn’t have waited until tomorrow? I’m tired, and I just want to—"

Tarn crushed Pharma against himself, trapping the tiny man in his arms and lifting his feet off the ground. He leaned over him, hand slipping up the doctor’s back to bury it in his hair, and hold the freckled face tight to his chest. Tarn trembled, engulfing the other man.

Pharma’s breath stopped, the pounding of his heart increasing hard enough that he could feel the pulse through their flush rib cages. It settled as the minutes ticked by on the clock. The doctor went limp after four, and sighed heavily after ten minutes.

Tarn wouldn’t let go.

"Are you ever going to let me breathe?" Pharma asked, whispering against Tarn’s vest. He shifted, crumpling his jacket up in a bunch. Pharma muttered, "It’s starting to hurt."

"I’ll think about it," Tarn said, rubbing a circle with his thumb on Pharma’s nape.

"Come now, Tarn," Pharma said, wriggling his arms to free one. He pushed on Tarn’s chest and dragged a toe on the ground. "Let go. I’m not joking, it really is starting to hurt."

"I don’t think that I can," Tarn said.

"Why?"

"You came home to me," Tarn said. He kissed the top of Pharma’s head, and buried his nose there. The slick grease mixing with make up, as he kissed it again. "You had a week free where you could have run anywhere you wanted. A week without me. And you didn’t—No, it didn’t even cross your mind to take advantage.

"You came straight to me, coming to my home before you even took a step in your asylum," Tarn said, digging his fingers into Pharma’s back. "How could I do anything else but hoard you all to myself after that? You came to me first. As if you belonged here. As if you were mine. You chose to see me, and I do not think that my heart could take it to imagine you may chose that every time in the future."

"Oh," Pharma said, in sort of an airy whisper. He dropped his forehead onto Tarn’s shoulder and the shaky breath that followed reminded him of a day in the far off past, long ago with a hot poker and poison. Tarn squeezed the doctor, hoping to expel that breath from every leaving his lips again. Pharma swallowed. "At least, can we sit down?"

"Yes, yes we can do that," Tarn said. He sat on the bed, drawing Pharma into his lap and digging his face into the boy’s chest. "But I’m not letting you go."

"You never do," Pharma said, slowly wrapping his arm’s around Tarn’s shoulders.

"Never."


End file.
